


Wake Up and Face Me

by frankenberger



Series: Post-Human Interludes [1]
Category: Z Nation (TV)
Genre: 10k has a soul, Consensual Sex, Hand Jobs, I don't do happy endings, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Season 3, did i mention smurf boners, murphy has a smurf boner, post-apocalyptic sexytimes, this is not a love story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 03:36:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14252190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankenberger/pseuds/frankenberger
Summary: 10k placed his arm upon the table, aiming the injector at the crook of his elbow. His mind was foggy, but Murphy's words cut through like a knife. Human. The proposition was so tempting, even though he knew that it would be short-lived. He would only earn another couple of days in a locked room until he was a placid puppet once again, and he would never gain Murphy's trust. But still, he wanted it.If this was a test, it was one that 10k was doomed to fail.***This story is set during S03E10 - They Grow Up So Quickly. An alternative take of the interaction between Murphy and 10k, following the knife game. Hope you enjoy.





	Wake Up and Face Me

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly - Not Sorry.
> 
> Secondly - Please heed tags. If you don't want to read about Murphy and 10k getting it on, you don't want to read this.

10k's hand was bleeding, his fingers sliced up in a dozen places. Every time his aim had failed, every time the knife had slipped, he felt the cut. But it didn't matter, not really. The single tear that had coursed down his cheek was nothing but a reflex. A body reacting to a sharp and self-inflicted pain, nothing more.

10k didn't have to be afraid anymore. He didn't have to be anything, not really. He could retreat into a dim corner of his own mind, be a passenger. Passive, without passion. Without pain. Without the ghost of Red to haunt him, or the accusing caw of crows. There was a kind of freedom here, even in his servitude. He could choose what he wanted to feel.

Murphy took his hand, wrapping the black bandanna around his wounded fingers. The sting teased at the edge of his consciousness, but 10k didn't want to let it in. The only thing he wanted to focus on was the anger. Looking into the strange zombie eyes of that blue bastard, with his self-satisfied smile. He wanted the anger to leak out, like his blood seeped into the fabric of his bandanna. He didn't care if Murphy saw it.

A hand trailed around his shoulders, grazing over the ruined fabric of his collar. Murphy sank down into the chair beside him, an imposing proximity. His palm rested on the back of the young man's neck. "Now," he said. "Let's talk about your new mission."

The words dragged 10k from the murk of his thoughts. His brow furrowed, eyes snapping into focus. He turned his head toward Murphy. The older man's face was a patchwork of blue, bordered by the spiky gray thatch of his beard. His eyes, alive and dead all at once. Irises threaded with ice, threaded with fire. They stared into the refuge of 10k's mind, and they saw him. 

When Murphy leaned in closely to whisper in his ear, 10k didn't pay attention to his words. Murphy smelled like soap, sandalwood and sage. A clean scent, in sharp contrast to the animal-cage stink of unwashed bodies, the sweat and filth of the apocalypse. The breath that tickled against 10k's cheek reeked of bitter coffee. The arm that encircled his shoulders wasn't fatherly or protective, it was possessive. 

"You understand what I want you to do." Murphy tucked a piece of yellowed paper into 10k's hand, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. The young man glanced down at their interlocked hands, confused and curious. Then, he nodded. He would follow the orders, he had no choice. 

Murphy was beaming, but the smile never quite reached his eyes. "And I have a surprise for you," he said, waving the shining metal of the injector in front of 10k's face, placing it finally on the jumble of papers that covered the table. A rescue beacon, a grass-green dose of humanity. 10k knew it was a trap, but he couldn't drag his eyes away from it. 

"Go ahead," Murphy continued, chuckling. "It's okay. That's what you want, isn't it? To be yourself again?" As 10k lifted the booster shot with the shaking fingers of his wounded hand, the facade of amusement fell from the older man's face. "To be human?"

10k placed his arm upon the table, aiming the injector at the crook of his elbow. His mind was foggy, but Murphy's words cut through like a knife. Human. The proposition was so tempting, even though he knew that it would be short-lived. He would only earn another couple of days in a locked room until he was a placid puppet once again, and he would never gain Murphy's trust. But still, he wanted it.

If this was a test, it was one that 10k was doomed to fail.

Murphy's hand darted out to grip his wrist but it was too late. There was a keen sting, and the drugs hit his bloodstream. He began to convulse, crashing face-down with a dull thump onto the scattered maps and charts. He gagged, foam spraying from between his lips. And, for a few blissful moments, 10k lost consciousness.

10k didn't mind being unconscious. It was a place of freedom, far from the endless screaming wasteland of the real world. Sometimes it was just a pool of darkness to float in. Sometimes it was a sun-dappled haven where he could lie beneath the trees, cradled in the lap of a memory. But today, there was no Red to comfort him. The hand that cupped his cheek to coax him back into the world was broad and callused, mottled with blue.

10k opened his eyes to see Murphy's face hovering beside him, simmering with a petulant rage. "So that's the way it is? I really wanted to trust you, Thomas."

10k jerked his head away from Murphy's touch, defiant. "Asshole," he muttered.

"Sir?" Drawn to the room by the commotion, a cluster of Murphy's blends milled around in the blurred edges of 10k's vision. Eager to protect their savior. Murphy ignored them, gazing into the hate-filled eyes of the young marksman.

Without the hazy background hum of Murphy inside his head, the pain was more present and the anger more acute. 10k knew he was human, because he was afraid. "Why didn't you just let me die?" he asked, summoning the words with an effort. "You have people to protect you, to fight for you. You don't need me."

Murphy sighed. "I know we haven't always gotten along, kid. But I care about you."

"I wish you wouldn't." 10k replied.

"Sir?" Wesson, Murphy's stone-faced lackey, stepped toward them. "Do you require assistance?"

"My young friend Thomas needs some alone time," Murphy said, settling back into his chair. "Keep a close eye on him, would you?"

Wesson marched over, hauling 10k from his chair with an uncharacteristic roughness. "Yes sir," he said.

As they dragged him out of the room, 10k kept a steady glare at the back of Murphy's head. But the older man didn't look back, not once.

***

Barefoot and cold, 10k curled himself up in a corner of the cell. Part of him regretted having taken the shot. It would have been so much easier to surrender to the call of his blood, to let himself become Murphy's bitch. Undignified and abhorrent, but easy. 

This was harder. Sluggish in the after-affects of the booster shot, 10k waited. It might be days before his control receded, but there wasn't a lot he could do with the intervening freedom. He closed his eyes and wished for the dreamlike presence of Red to keep him company, but she didn't show up. Eventually, he gave up trying.

Night fell, and he heard the click of the door opening.

It was Murphy, and he was alone. Divested of his coat and tie, the top buttons of his shirt undone. He closed the door behind him, gazing silently down at the huddled shape of 10k in the twilit gloom. 

"You're right," said 10k, breaking the silence. "I'm not like the others. They all seem to adore you. Worship you."

Murphy's voice was soft, but tainted with bitterness. "And yet you're somehow immune to my charms."

10k planted his hands on the cold concrete floor. "I might be bound to you by blood, but you're not my messiah." Even though the lighting was dim, he could see how much his words stung. It felt good. "I'm not gonna fall on my knees for you, unless you plan to make me."

Murphy leaned backwards against the door, arms crossed. "What are you trying to imply?"

10k wet his cracked, dry lips with the tip of his tongue. "I remember the way that Cassandra looked at you, after you bit her." His eyes gleamed, accusing. "She was hungry, and not for your brains."

10k might have been wrong, but Murphy almost seemed flustered. "You make it sound so sordid."

10k stared him down, pulse quickening at the thought of Cassandra and Murphy together, a sharp pang of jealousy in his chest. "I know what kind of monster you are," he asserted. "Can you honestly say you never took advantage?"

Murphy was the first to break eye contact, a quirk at the corner of his lip. "It wasn't like that, but even if it was? I can't help it if she felt a connection to me. The heart wants what it wants."

Standing so tall in his sharp suit, Murphy seemed so far from the flinching coward he used to be. 10k remembered a time when he felt a grudging affection for the ridiculous man. An ill-advised protective instinct, as Murphy had always been a selfish pain in the ass. But friends were few and far between in the apocalypse. You took what you could get. 

10k felt a flood of heat in his cheeks from some emotion he could barely recognize. He didn't want to ask, but he needed to know. "And what do you want from me, Murphy?"

The older man turned away, deflecting the question. Taking advantage of the distraction, 10k lunged to his feet and launched himself at the other man. They fell heavily to the concrete, and 10k felt all the air knocked from his lungs as they collided.

A fist connected squarely with Murphy's jaw and he grunted, lifting his hands to deflect any further blows. "Stop," he said, struggling. He was afraid.

"Answer me, and I will." 10k straddled his waist, fists raised to pummel. The feeling of dominance was an intoxicating rush. "Why are you keeping me here?"

"In case you haven't noticed, the average life expectancy has decreased drastically." Murphy was breathing heavily. His lip was bleeding from the blow, and his tongue darted out to test the wound. "I'm trying to build a new world here, and I want you to be part of it. I don't want you to die, or turn Z. I want you here beside me. Is that so wrong?"

It was honesty, raw and undiluted. 10k could sense it, and it was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on his rage. He had expected some talk about Warren, about the inevitable attack. Like a selfish kid, Murphy didn't want anyone else playing with his toys. But the truth was sobering, and 10k didn't know what to do with it. He lowered his hands.

"Aren't you sick of fighting?" Murphy asked. His gaze traveled down to 10k's lips, back to his eyes. An odd, hungry expression crossed his face.

With an unexpected show of strength, Murphy grabbed 10k by the shoulders and lifted his hips, throwing the younger man off balance. They tumbled over together, sprawling into the dust. Weak from lack of food and the unavoidable lethargy of the vaccine, 10k found himself pinned.

"I get it now," Murphy said, chest heaving. He held 10k's wrists above his head, their bodies pressed together. "I don't even think you see it, but I do. You're only fighting yourself."

"Stop it, Murphy." 10k struggled, squirming under the weight of the other man. This was all too familiar. He had been here before. In another life, the shock of the collar around his neck as he sprawled on a wooden stage, in the midst of a twisted zombie menagerie. Murphy straddling his body, telling him that it would all be over in a second, coming in for the bite. Zombie Dracula in a frilly shirt and a dusty black coat.

When Murphy leaned in, 10k flinched. Expecting the sharp pierce of teeth, he was stunned to feel the press of lips against his own. The scrape of Murphy's beard against his face as the other man kissed him with a rough and urgent desire. He tasted like bourbon whiskey, scorching and sweet.

It was wrong, so wrong, but the kiss ignited something deep inside the younger man. A flood of lust, flames coursing through his veins. He would be lying if he claimed that he had never dreamed of something like this. Hatred and passion were not so far removed, after all.

10k groaned and nipped at Murphy's lip, blood smearing across his mouth. He could barely believe he was doing this after all that had happened, but he couldn't help himself. This was unavoidable. Murphy gave a satisfied growl, releasing 10k's wrists only to wind his fingers roughly in the unkempt spikes of his hair. Their mouths crushed together, teeth and tongues clashing with an eager violence.

10k's hands were flat against the floor, twitching with the ache to touch, to scratch and claw. Murphy tore at the ragged black cloth of his jumpsuit, baring him to the waist. Sucking bruises into his pale chest, biting his flesh with careful pressure, never quite breaking the skin. "Isn't this better?" he murmured.

"Shut up." 10k squeezed his eyes shut as Murphy ventured down his torso, digging his long, ragged fingernails into narrow hips. He was only a single snap-fastener away from 10k's groin and the kid was half-hard already. Touch-starved.

10k wondered what would happen if they were interrupted in this moment. What would these adoring blends think, if they saw him now? The great Murphy, grinding against the half-naked body of a guy half his age, debased and transcendent. Writhing on the filthy concrete floor. Perhaps Murphy had warned them all to keep their distance. Perhaps he had expected this to happen.

Settling back on his knees, Murphy fumbled at the buttons of his shirt. His bare chest was a blueprint of pain, defaced with white and winding scars. Brutal bites, missing chunks of flesh. 10k could almost see the spray of blood, hear the screaming. Etched into his skin, a story of agony. He felt an unwelcome rush of sympathy, and he swallowed it down.

"Thomas," said Murphy breathlessly, his confidence faltering as he saw the flash of pity in the young man's eyes.

The heart wants what it wants, thought 10k. "Are we going to do this?" he asked. "Kiss me, before I change my mind."

He was enveloped. Their bodies slid against each other, sweat mingling as Murphy recommenced his assault. The kiss was wet and needy, and 10k returned it with equal enthusiasm. The experience was altogether new, overwhelming to his senses. "Fuck," he breathed, as they broke apart. 10k wasn't much for swearing, but the situation seemed to call for it. 

Shaking hands delved down to pop open the last press-stud on 10k's jumpsuit. Then, with an expression of profound anticipation, Murphy skirted the waistband of the younger man's briefs, lifting his hips to knead and squeeze the lean muscles of his ass. 

"Murphy," 10k began. He didn't know what he was trying to say, what he was trying to ask for. He just knew that he wanted, needed. Murphy planted kisses down the trail of dark hair that led to 10's groin, making a primal noise at the back of his throat. 10k was only a moment away from begging, when the older man yanked down his briefs and licked a warm stripe up his slim length.

So sudden. 10k cried out, unprepared for the sensation as Murphy swiftly engulfed his cock in the wet suction of his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive head. It was too much too quickly, and 10k felt himself rapidly approaching the precipice. He was going to come down Murphy's throat any moment now, and he didn't know how to stop it. 

10k started to murmur under his breath. "No, no. Stop." It was too soon, he didn't want this to end. They had swapped enough spit by now that he had maybe an hour left, tops, before his self-control slipped away. If they were going to do this, he needed to know it was in his own free will.

Getting the picture, Murphy disgorged 10k's over-sensitive prick and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're killing me here," he said, breathing heavily. 10k could see the outline of Murphy's sizable erection as it strained against his pants. He bit his lip, imagining what it looked like. He didn't have to wait long. Murphy unbuckled his belt, whipping the long leather strap from the belt loops and tossing it aside. The pants and underwear went next, after a quick, fumbling moment with the button fly.

10k inhaled deeply, feeling a warning surge of light-headedness. This was bad. He didn't want to shoot his load without even getting his hands on Murphy's package. While the rest of Murphy's body was reverting slowly to the color of human flesh, his thick cock was a uniform blue, deepening to an angry purple at the tip. Holy shit, thought 10k. Papa Smurf was hung.

10k scrambled to his knees, awestruck. He captured Murphy's mouth ferociously, tasting his own sweaty funk on the man's tongue. He wrapped his hand around Murphy's shaft, tugging on the silky flesh, already damp with pre-cum. Murphy moaned into him, digging his fingers into 10k's back to pull their bodies closer. 

They ground against each other for endless minutes, aching knees becoming numb on the bare concrete floor. Murphy thrust into the tunnel of 10k's fist, emitting soft grunts of pleasure. 10k nestled his face in the crook of Murphy's neck, kissing and sucking at the salty skin. Whimpering slightly every time his cock caught a bit of friction. Eventually, he was rutting against Murphy's thigh and he knew they were both close.

Murphy's body stiffened as he came, spilling over 10k's hand. His fingernails bit into the younger man's skin, drawing blood. 10k didn't care, as this gave him the last push he needed to topple over the edge. He gasped into Murphy's shoulder, shaking with the power of his release. 

Murphy eased them both down to the floor, cum-streaked and sated. "Holy hell, kid." he said, carding a hand through 10k's sweat-soaked hair. His fingers found the scar at the back of 10k's neck, tracing the circle of tooth marks. He may not have been entirely human anymore, but his heart still thumped like a jackhammer against 10k's chest. "Next time, remind me to get you a real bed."

10k exhaled, trying to bring his own breathing under control. He was starting to feel the chill of the air. "There's not gonna be a next time," he said, mildly. 

Murphy smiled, but it seemed like it hurt. "Okay," he said. "I get it." His fingers stopped their restless circling, and his palm rested at the base of 10k's skull. He leaned in for a kiss, and 10k didn't stop him. A goodbye kiss, or close enough to one. No more fire, only the smoldering of coals.

Murphy got to his feet first, pulling on his pants as he watched 10k vainly try to refasten his ragged jumpsuit. "I'll be a perfect gentleman, I swear." His smile was wearing thin as he retrieved his shirt off the floor and pulled it over his shoulders. "My Ajax. My Achilles."

10k was still curled up on the floor when Murphy left the room, promising someone to take him to better quarters. He closed his eyes, waiting for unconsciousness to claim him.

Red wasn't waiting for him in the darkness behind his eyes. And for once, he was glad of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all. Hope you enjoyed. This little idea has been percolating ever since I first saw the episode, and I couldn't stop until I got some form of it down onto the page. Never going to be 100% happy with it, but its time has come.
> 
> Title comes from the track "Passive" by A Perfect Circle which is an all-time favourite and is definitely part of my Murphyk playlist.
> 
> Comments, kudos etc. always appreciated, and if you want to come say hello you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Frankenberger).


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